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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28277748">One Quiet Morning.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Commander_Taco/pseuds/Commander_Taco'>Commander_Taco</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work, Welcome to Night Vale</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 22:21:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,359</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28277748</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Commander_Taco/pseuds/Commander_Taco</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
      <p>Here's what I wrote for a Secret Santa celebration! This was for a Tumblr WTNV OC, Holly Leix. </p><p>https://hollyleix.tumblr.com/ or https://halcyonterror.tumblr.com/ is the link, if you want to know more about the OC! (hollyleix and halcyonterror on Tumblr)</p>
    </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>One Quiet Morning.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Here's what I wrote for a Secret Santa celebration! This was for a Tumblr WTNV OC, Holly Leix. </p><p>https://hollyleix.tumblr.com/ or https://halcyonterror.tumblr.com/ is the link, if you want to know more about the OC! (hollyleix and halcyonterror on Tumblr)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Prompt:</span>
  <em>
    <span> Bashir/Garak or something with Holly and Matvei, if Bug doesn't mind use of their oc, or if you're writing I'd love to see how you view Holly and/or Tomas</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>[TW: Mentions that zombie apocalypse on multiple occasions and death.]</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was yet another sleepy morning. The sun painted the sky in many shades of red and orange as it peeked over the horizon. Grey, cracked sidewalks were empty, save for the occasional early morning runner or mysterious hooded figure.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Right on one of these streets, anyone who walked by would see a rather adorable cafe. The building was inviting, with the smell of freshly baked goods traveling far. There was no darkness here; only pastel decorations and colored walls.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The colorfulness of the cafe contrasted with the streets and buildings around it, especially because any passerby couldn’t recall seeing it the previous day. An average morning in a not-so-average bakery.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For the time being, the shop was not open for business. A light red sign was resting on the door from a hook; reading “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Closed. Please Come Back Later!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> in black text. The sign had seen better days, with some of the text cracking at the edges. There were lights on inside the bakery; gentle yellow lights that illuminated the rooms. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Inside, a woman was walking around the bakery, making sure everything was ready for the upcoming day. The shop would open soon, and there was a lot to get done. This was Holly Leix, a master baker. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The first thing was to go to the kitchen and make sure today’s batch of bread was being baked. She had made the dough earlier that morning, and Holly was now preheating the oven.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>While she waited, the woman glanced over at an old wooden sign. It rested against the wall above the oven. Forged from dark oak wood; now aged. A reminder of how long it had been there. This bakery wasn’t older than Holly but had been around for a while. Although...she couldn’t quite remember when she had first opened the bakery. Of course, she remembered the actual events, but the timing was odd. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Time was weird, especially in a bakery that liked to travel to new locations each day. Every morning, she would walk downstairs and look outside. Most times, the baker could recognize the area around her; the cafe had favorite spots. It gravitated towards busy cities, especially on important dates. Like parades or festivals. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was that angel’s fault. The one who had struck a deal with her likes to be around people. It was almost funny! Holly Leix got a new life, in exchange for eternal service to a chaotic ethereal being. She didn’t know what went on behind the scenes; what her bakery was being used for. She didn’t care. Asking questions was a good way to get yourself killed. Or worse. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That sign served as another reminder. A saying that she kept to. One that Holly had to remember to protect herself. In the white cursive text, somehow pristine, the sign read:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Judge not, lest ye be judged.’</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>- Matthew 7:1-3</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Essentially, Karma. Think ill of others without knowing the full story, and you will be judged by the same awful standard. She wasn’t a religious person, under no means. But they were good words all the same. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Questioning what other people were up to wasn’t something Holly normally did. She understood having to do what needed to be done. Especially when fighting zombies, people made questionable decisions that, well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>needed to be done.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A quiet beeping brought her back to reality. The oven was done preheating. She inserted the various trays of dough into the oven and set a timer. Walking out of the kitchen, the baker picked up a rag and a bottle of cleaning fluid on her way to the main lobby. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And so she continued on her routine. Holly walked around the bakery, spraying the fluid on various surfaces (tables, chairs, countertops, etc) and wiping it off with the rag. It was a methodical task, and predictably, her thoughts wandered yet again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She didn’t know if her homeworld even </span>
  <em>
    <span>existed</span>
  </em>
  <span> anymore. Not that she could return anyway. Even if she could, would she want to? Riddled with zombies, it was the very definition of an apocalypse. The baker had watched people die, even close friends. Needless to say, that kind of thing taught you a lot. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leaders taught her more than just how to shoot. Like magic, which was very useful for everyday life. And if she ever got in a bad situation. But hopefully, that wouldn’t happen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Holly wouldn’t need to remember how to shoot now, she supposed. She had been thrust from her homeworld, into some sort of limbo. Her bakery switched dimensions and locations every day. It provided a chance for her to learn so much more about these cultures and new worlds. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A quick glance informed Holly that she was in Night Vale today! That meant she had to make sure her bread was gluten-free. This friendly desert community wasn’t very friendly to wheat and wheat by-products because of some scare back in 2013. At least she didn’t need to learn this the hard way. Her angel guardian gave her a heads-up, which she gratefully accepted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The tables were clean now, and the cleaning objects went back in the cupboard. Next, the baked goods had to be stocked behind the counter’s window. Once that was done, a little plastic sign was placed on the counter next to the tip jar. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>No Wheat Or Wheat By-Products Here!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> It said, as a reassurance to the rather weary citizens of Night Vale. Because who knew what would happen if her shop was found to house an illegal substance? The baker didn’t understand why wheat was illegal in the first place, but it was better if their police didn’t know about whatever secret business that angel was up to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Holly checked the clock, which read </span>
  <em>
    <span>6:45 AM.</span>
  </em>
  <span> There wasn’t much else to do this morning, before allowing customers into the building. She should be opening the shop soon. These quiet mornings were her favorite part of the day when the sky was peaking through the sky and the city seemed almost empty. Like the city had not a care in the world. At least, not until people started to wake. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pretty much everywhere she went had these quiet mornings; so starkly in contrast to her own homeworld. At least, not that she noticed. It was hard to enjoy sunrises when zombies were trying to murder you at every turn. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Did she miss her homeworld? That was a tough question to answer. On one hand, there was a sense of familiarity that had been torn from Holly when she met her chaotic angel. On the other hand, it was kind of nice not having to run and fight for her life anymore? Either way, she was kind of stuck here. Why not make the best of it? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Making the best of situations was something she’d gotten good at. Call it blind optimism or practicality, it saved her life on numerous occasions. Survival was always at her top priority. And now that she didn’t need to fight for her own survival every day, she fought for the survival of those she cared about. It helped that the bakery liked to travel to wherever she was needed instead of where she </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted</span>
  </em>
  <span> to go. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her shop opened at seven o'clock, so Holly decided to get moving. She walked over to the door and unlocked it by sliding the deadbolt to the side. Well, all three. Couldn’t be too careful, right? Next, she flipped the sign. To anyone walking by, it would now say “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Open. Come On Inside!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>in that same black text on a now green sign. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had just arrived back behind the counter when the door opened. The customer’s arrival was announced by a quiet ringing of the bells attached to the doorframe. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Welcome to the Leix bakery, what can I get started for you?” Holly asked, her voice peppy and polite. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another quiet morning. </span>
</p>
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